On noticing what is already here This short Zen story has stayed with me for many years. I return to it often, not as a lesson to be explained, but as a reminder. It speaks about proximity, about how what surrounds us most completely can also be the hardest to perceive. In my artistic practice, this story resonates deeply. Much of my work grows from a similar question: how to make visible what is already present, yet rarely noticed. Not by pointing or instructing, but by crea

Earlier today a thought came to me while I was thinking about recognition and relevance. It first appeared through the lens of the art world, through competitions, open calls and the quiet hierarchies that decide what is considered important. But the thought itself does not really belong to the art world. It belongs to something much larger. At one point I was thinking about what it would mean to receive one of those recognitions people strive for. The kind that signals that

For those who know my work, it may already be clear that my life as an artist does not follow the usual rhythm. For many years I have lived with a chronic condition that has significantly limited how much I can move through the world. It has shaped the way I work, the pace at which things unfold, and also the questions I find myself reflecting on about the art world and my place within it. One of those questions concerns something that is rarely discussed openly, even though

One painting was made in 2011. The two others are from 2024 and 2025. It is a long span of time, enough for a visual language to change. “Hopp” (2011) was painted before there was a method. Starting was uncertain. The acrylic resisted. The colors slid or broke, and the attempt to soften transitions became a struggle. There were no direction and no decisions, only action and frustration. Only when I stepped back did a form appear. A bird pushed out of the color fields and I ma

On perception, artistic method, and pre-verbal ways of seeing For a long time, I took my way of perceiving the world for granted. I assumed that most people see connections, structures, and meaning in roughly the same way. Only recently have I come to understand that my way of seeing and working is not self-evident, but fundamental to how my artistic practice takes shape. When new works take shape for me, they rarely appear as ideas in a verbal sense. Instead, they emerge as

Notes on process, limitation and artistic voice This text reflects on how long-term illness has shaped my artistic practice — not only in terms of working methods and materials, but in how I relate to time, presence and artistic voice. It offers a context for the work, rather than an explanation of it. For a long time, my health has been something I have kept in the background of my artistic work. Not because it hasn’t mattered, but because I was unsure of how to speak about